Swimming Above the Sharks
by Creejak
Summary: Mallot and Grapple discover themselves stranded, half-dead, and with a hell of a lot of gold. That, and Mallot intelligently points out they’re no longer cursed. (R&R Please)(Ch13 up!)
1. Surprises

Swimming Above The Sharks

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing these two characters. Technically, they're Disney's property… which sucks. But because they're sub-canon characters, Disney wont notice if I steal them for a while…Mwa ha ha ha…!

Summary: Mallot and Grapple discover themselves stranded, accidentally marooned, and with a hell of a lot of gold. That and Mallot intelligently points out they're not cursed any more.

Notes: Watch the 'Let Them Eat Cake' deleted scene and you'll know who these guys are. Also, if that doesn't help, Grapple is the pirate who tells Will Turner to "Say goodbye!". Mallot informs Barbossa, "And it was you who sent Bootstrap to the depths!" They also grab Elizabeth on the Interceptor during the ending of the fight. Grapple restrains Will from attacking Barbossa when Elizabeth is made to walk the plank. Mallot also is the skeleton playing the fiddle beside Jacoby when Elizabeth first runs out of Barbossa's cabin and sees the cursed pirates. Grapple is the guy who catches her and swings on the rope, later getting his neck broken at the helm. And Mallot…he…umm…doesn't get much screen time. Poor Brye…

Also, I know 'Mallot' should be spelt 'Mallet', but if you look real closely, that's how it's been spelt in the movie credits.

Chapter One: Surprises

The boat came at them from nowhere, both pirates being taken completely by surprise as they were knocked backwards into the water, their bones flying everywhere, taking the scraps of clothes they wore with them. On deck, Elizabeth Swann, Joshamee Gibbs, and the assorted members of Jack Sparrow's crew from the Interceptor let out a cry of victory heard faintly by the two unfortunate pirates under water.

The ability of speech wasn't all that fantabulous, even cursed and in a skeletal state, when one was under more then six feet of water. Yet luckily, no limbs had been permanently lost, and the connection of their skeletons would take only time: time that they surely had.

A half a leg was dragged one way by an arm, practically smothered in a thick blue rag with eighteen buttons on both sides-also known as a vest. A leg limb, caught under the griffe of a ruined grapple, nudged a skull towards a spinal cord with one arm attached to it, the ribs rather intact.   
Finally, the form of a human skeleton took form for one of them. Mallot straightened up, hopping awkwardly on one footless leg as he tried to attach his right arm to his shoulder. The, once he had succeeded, he went about looking for his foot. Grapple, the other pirate, stood up before realizing his arm had replaced a leg. After fixing themselves up, Grapple merely had to attach his head.

A sudden sense of foreboding shadowed the two and as Mallot slammed his tri-corn hat over his hastily re-tied bandana, Grapple put his head back on and started to crack his neck. Yet that is where the real trouble began for the two. Halfway through the crunch, they realized they were no longer skeletons.  They were choking, unable to breath, drowning. In their haste for air, they began trying to suck in breath underwater, spluttering water and making their situation worse.

Grapple reached down and snagged up his namesake weapon, not really needing to as the chains and rope held it to his belts, and made to swim in the direction of the surface. Mallot soon followed, but stopped. He turned around and made an underwater shoot to his mallet. Snagging it, he started to swim upward yet was held down by the heavy weapon. With a jerk of both his arms, the hammer swung slowly but the hideous nail sticking from it's face cut through his skin and blood poured from his arm. With a muted cry, he swam hard for the surface, his lungs hurting and arm stinging furiously with the salt water.

Grapple surfaced, and immediately gasped for air. His lungs were pained from waiting to breath for so long, yet he laughed none the less. The curse had been broken! He looked around, still grinning, trying to find where Mallot had surfaced. The pirate, he suddenly realized, had not come up for air.

  
Panic seizing his chest, he ducked back underneath the water, and although his eyes stung, he searched, swimming deeper for his companion. He spotted the pirate not to far from where they had left off, struggling to drag something up with him, a stream of bubbles floating in the water from his face as he could no longer hold his breath. Grapple swam and thrusting the handle of his weapon in his sash, reached Mallot in a time span for which he thought he was to late.

  
The pirate had gone unconscious, yet his grip upon the handle of his weapon was still tight enough no to let go. Grabbing the wrist of the suffocating freebooter, Grapple swam hard and fast for the surface. At last, he broke it and once again, gasping for air, shifted Mallot so his lolling head was above water. Trying not to sigh in relief, he instead nodded to himself a job well done and made for the rocky shores of Isle de Muerta, their only refuge until the Black Pearl was recovered.


	2. Es Cop Eh! Er, escape…

Title: Swimming Above The Sharks

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing these two characters. Technically, they're Disney's property… which sucks. But because they're sub-canon characters, Disney wont notice if I steal them for a while…Mwa ha ha ha…!

Summary: Mallot and Grapple discover themselves stranded, accidentally marooned, and with a hell of a lot of gold. That and Mallot intelligently points out they're not cursed any more.

Notes: Trevor. Hehe. If you don't know how to pronounce that…Treh-vhore. Jonathan is /not/ said as John-a-than, but Joan-uh-thin.

Chapter Two: Es-Cop-Eh! Er, escape…

Heaving and puffing, he realized he was experiencing difficulty without the assistance of the curse. Ah, but even though his lungs hurt, his eyes stung, and he was choking and spluttering up water, it was good to be free. He dragged himself onto the rough rocks somewhere near to the entrance of the cave to the island where all the loot had been stored. Ten years of pilfering, and now it would be worth spending. Perhaps, Grapple mused, he would go to Tortuga and retire at his early age. Mallot would probably not object to that idea, being even younger then he.

Which brought another subject up. Mallot was still unconscious. Dragging the limp body onto the rocks, he heaved and grumbled under his breath. Then, once he had completed his task, he rested for but a moment, for he realized the lack of gunfire from The Dauntless. Had the crew already vanquished Norrington and his men? Would there now be a small fleet the pirate belonged to?

And then he noticed the Pearl was gone. The Dauntless was slowly, ever so painfully, turning around. Eyes wide in fear, he wondered if Barbossa and his fellow crewmates had forgotten about him. 

"Almost…got it…" Mallot whispered, his eyes flickering open as he gained conscious. Immediately, he turned onto his side and began choking and coughing up salt water. Breathing hard for a moment, he adjusted his tri-corn hat so it wouldn't be covering up his eyes, and rolled back onto his back.   
"Where is it?" he asked quietly, the dreaded answer already known to him.

"I couldn't bring it up with me."

"Alright…I'll go back an' get it," he said, slowly starting to sit up. His curved back was suddenly filled with a searing pain and he cried out, convulsing backwards and falling back onto the stone.  
Grapple turned his head, his neck cracking audibly and winced. When the curse was lifted, he had only managed to half-crack his neck after attaching it.   
"We're not cursed any more. You can't bend yore back." 

"I figured so much, Trevor."

The name, having grown so unfamiliar for so long, paused Grapple in his reply. It was his name… His real name, not the one he had dubbed himself when he had found the perfect weapon. Mallot also had a real name…what was it?

"Well, you weren't acting like it when you started yelling yore head off a moment back, Jonathan."

"We aren't cursed anymore…" Mallot said intellectually, waving an index finger around in the air as he laid his other hand behind his head to rest it from the hard rock surface where he lay. "Yet ten years of bein' conditioned to something really makes you forget stuff!"

"How could you forget something like…like that? Yore back, I mean."

"Just…just because!" Mallot said cheerfully, as though the pain hadn't dampened his lately un-cursed spirits.

Grapple snorted ridiculously, running his wrist under his nose and leaning his back against the jagged rock wall behind him carefully. He looked out towards the Dauntless, leaving the bay and going back into the precarious turf of the graveyard of ships. Casting a weary eye over Mallot, he sighed loudly and crossed his arms over his chest.

"They're leavin', aren't they? We're stuck…" Mallot acknowledged, his hat still titled over his eyes. Grapple answered with a quiet and short sigh before absently nodding his head, forgetting the other pirate couldn't see him.

"Well, you help me up and we'll find a way into the treasure cave. See if we can't find us a way to get off this little rock," Mallot said, replacing his hat and offering Grapple a hand. As the larger pirate got up and grabbed his hand, Mallot heaved himself and discovered his back still hurt a bit. Taking a moment to grab back his hand and breath for a minute, he turned around and looked wistfully at the water before turning around and gingerly picking his way down the rocky crop of land.

Following the other man, Trevor grumbled something about 'useless attachments' before nearly tripping over a particularly protruding and sharp stone. With a curse, he galloped past his comrade, nearly knocking the surefooted pirate over and into the water, to where he went around a small curve in the rock's face and stopped dead in his tracks.  
Mallot nearly walked right into the pirate's back as he rounded the same curve, and looking around Grapple saw the same sight, which had stopped him. The looming cave that granted entrance to the treasure stash was a much shorter distance then they had thought. Carefully, Grapple picked his way across the small ledge that had been eroded by whether, rowboats from the Pearl scraping against it, and water lapping at the rocks. Soon, he passed into darkness with but the dim moonlight for guidance, and only heard the dull roar of one of the cave's many waterfalls off in the distance.

Behind him, Mallet crept up and once again found himself nearly walking into Grapple's back. With a stifled cry, he waved his arms around as he backed up, nearly loosing his balance. Ahead of him, Grapple turned his head to peer at the pirate with a single eye, the reflection caused by the moonlight outside truly startling.  
"Watch yoreself."

"Shut up!" Mallot snapped, absently reaching for his weapon. But of course, the heavy hammer was no longer there.

"We got to find a way off o' this island. No fresh water or food isn't a very great survival combination."

"Es-Cop-Eh!" Mallot shouted, and the weird syllables echoed off of the cave walls, causing a few pebbles to fall harmless from the ceiling. Grapple raised an eyebrow, turned his head away, and started off further into the cave.   
Mallot followed him, trotting slightly at first to catch up, and frantically calling, "I meant 'escape'! Escape! I was thinking of how to spell it! Grapple!"

"Es-Cop-Eh!" was the cruelly laughed reply.

"Escape! Escape!" Jonathan yelled out indignantly.

~*~


	3. Family and Food

Title: Swimming Above The Sharks

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing these two characters. Technically, they're Disney's property… which sucks. But because they're sub-canon characters, Disney wont notice if I steal them for a while…Mwa ha ha ha…!

Summary: Mallot and Grapple discover themselves stranded, accidentally marooned, and with a hell of a lot of gold. That and Mallot intelligently points out they're not cursed any more.

Notes: Arr! YES, they're related! I figured, hey, what the Hell? It'd only add to the story's /complexities/, eh? Hehe…yeah right…

Chapter Three: Family and Food

The glow of moonlight glinting off of treasure was up ahead, and the ledge ended four feet away from the damp slide of rock that lead to the passage the two pirates needed to take. The two waded into the cold water, already wet and not drying due to the odd climate the island seemed to have taken as it's own. Had they been anywhere else in the Caribbean, surely they would have been warm and happier. Alas, it wasn't to be for the unfortunate pirates.

Slipping as he walked onto the slick ramp-like rock, Mallot nearly fell back into the water, yet with a stroke of luck, gained his balance while keeping a straight back. Pausing to sigh with relief, he chuckled to himself before asking Grapple, "Remember 'ow mother always told me to stop dragging my feet? I think she was right."

"She also told you to not act so bloody stupid," Grapple growled. Mallot paused, then smirked.  
"Naw! That was you whom she told!" Jonathan laughed lightly before scrambling up the slide and past Grapple, who reached out to swat the other pirate, yet missed.

Indeed, 'mother' was their mother. Not only were they shipmates, close friends, and looked slightly similar, they were brothers. Both from a very well off family, at that. Yet why would they resort to piracy, when they had money and a good life, one would ask? Simple. A dysfunctional family could easily drive a child off, especially if the father of the household was determined to 'save the family's fortune', and insanity helped the vision.

Two minutes later, they had walked through the threshold from the passage to the bright, gleaming cave. Moonlight streamed upon the precious metals the pirates had collected, and bounced off of them, causing more illumination within the confines of the rock grotto. Grapple looked around, avoiding the need to see what state the Aztec chest was in, or the glinting coins within. Mallot, however, did not.

The younger of the two brothers set his gaze upon the mound of treasure, which had been the stage of which the chest sat atop of for many years. He suddenly let out a strangled sound, and stumbled forward, slipping on the damp rock floor before wading furiously through the knee-deep water that pooled upon the cave floor. Grapple looked to where his brother was, and made a similar sound of surprise.

Barbossa was lying still at the bottom of the mound, his body pulled up neatly upon the treasure as though he had fallen there. An apple floated in the water near his feet, it's green skin shinning faintly in the light. Mallet fled to kneel by the motionless man's side, and looked down into the captain's face. His once sickly yet glinting blue eyes were clouded by lifelessness and forever starring up at the cave ceiling. Blood was visible, staining his white shirt, his jacket pulled to the side as though preparing for someone to look at the horrible bullet hole the shot had torn through him.

  
"Captain Hector Barbossa is dead," Mallot murmured ceremonially, and Grapple crashed through the water to stare at the still captain's form, forever now at rest. For a moment, both pirates were silent until the elder of the brothers let out a strangled yell out disbelief. No wonder the Pearl had sailed away. No wonder The Dauntless had left the bay. All their crewmates had most likely been captured.

  
Both men imagined some glorious battle, non of their former companions giving up until they were overpowered or slaughtered in a grand display of swordsmanship and skill, shot in the back by a redcoat and still standing to kill a bloody navy sailor. They imagined a death or capture for each face they could put a name to. Even the slightly meeker pirates, such as Ragetti or Dog Ear. Bo'Sun had probably been hacked to pieces before he fell, and Twigg had gone down after killing a very admired navy officer…  
Of course, that wasn't what had really happened, yet one's mind and imagination tended to flitter away when one was given the time and situation, such as the two boys had now. Shaking his head, Mallot passed a hand over their captain's face and closed the old man's lids before standing back up and looking back up at the chest of cursed medallions.

"Think we should take one? Just until we figure out how to get out of here."

"No," came the quick reply and Mallot shrugged a shoulder wearily. Standing up slowly, he waded elsewhere through the water to a different patch of smooth rock. Coincidentally, it was his brother's and his mound of treasure. Built up over ten years, it loomed a good few inches taller then Mallot, even with his hat on.

"Suppose we should look for some food in the stashes, eh? I think I saw Pintel throwing something on his and Rags' stash last time," Jonathan commented lightly, glancing around him at the stashes of treasure. It was unlikely any of the pirates had stored food in their piles, due to the curse. Yet all the talk of victuals was reminding them both of the starvation they had suffered, and were still suffering from.

Sloshing through the water, and trying not to look behind him at the corpse of their once captain, Grapple made his way over to a pile of treasure that included rather anything under the sun. Parasols, dresses, silks, gold, silver, goblets, books (as he recalled, Pintel was able to read, so it somehow made sense), jewels and spices were included in the pile. Shuffling some of the riches around, he poked through the top of the pile. Removing a candlestick from its place, the end caught on a dress and dragged the clothing from its spot. However, no clinking of metal accompanied it.

Pausing, Grapple stared at the dress for a moment before extracting it from the bottom layer of the pile. Avoiding the miniature avalanche of loot that followed, he was greeted by a most welcome sight.

"What is it?" Mallot called from behind him, and a few soft splashing sounds ran about. Grapple reached in and with both hands, attempted to draw out a wooden crate. Grumbling without success, he adjusted his muscled arms and with a grunt, heaved the box out and fell backwards onto the rock floor with a loud smack, the box on top of his stomach.

"Graceful, aren't y'eh?" Mallot teased before tromping over to his brother, tossing the green apple that had been floating in the water up and down in his hand, switching the fruit from his fingerless-gloved hand to his bare palm.   
Sitting upright, Trevor shot his brother a look and set the cart down beside him before rolling onto his side and crouching in front of the crate. A few scratches were carved into the nailed-down lid of the box yet a word painted in large red letters was quite legible.

FRUIT

"Well then!" Mallot exclaimed casually, standing over his brother, as though it was a very normal thing to discover in a pile of pirate loot. "Lucky, eh? Good thing ol' Pintel liked vittles."

Nodding silently, Grapple took his name-sake weapon out and looking around as though expecting somebody to leap out and clonk him over the head for stealing stolen goods, he wedged the single barb on the single griffe in the tight space between the lid and body of the crate. With a grunt, he pushed down on the handle and continued, sinew stressing visibly on his arms.

  
Leaping back as a crack shattered the quiet air, Mallot let out a startled noise and nearly lost his balance again. Then, cautiously, he approached the box, which had a split down the centre of its lid, which was now completely severed from the box, the nails torn out and poking hazardously out from the wood. Looking inside the box, peaches, plums, bananas, oranges and rotting tomatoes were shoved in, some of the fruit being squished, innards plastering the side of the crate, and a good majority of the food was bruised.

  
Not that that stopped the two ravenous pirates from immediately scooping out some and shovelling it down their throats! The feel and taste of the fruit was worth the future worry. It wasn't cake, but it was edible, and that was all that mattered to them.


	4. Scars and Break

Title: Swimming Above The Sharks

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing these two characters. Technically, they're Disney's property… which sucks. But because they're sub-canon characters, Disney wont notice if I steal them for a while…Mwa ha ha ha…!

Summary: Mallot and Grapple discover themselves stranded, accidentally marooned, and with a hell of a lot of gold. That and Mallot intelligently points out they're not cursed any more.

Notes: Peter Piper picked a peck of pickles peppers. … Odd, I didn't know you could grow pickled peppers…52 times is the number of times Kenny from South Park died up until the 'Poster Child' episode. There fore, Mallot, being the humorous minion of evil he is, gets that special number. …Actually, I just wanted a way to remember how many times Kenny had died. I lost count…"

Chapter Four: Scars and Break

An hour and an entire crate of fruit later, the two pirates had summarized one thing; they were out of food. However, do to Mallot's ingenious skills of salvaging, they had discovered one more thing; they would eventually stumble upon another pack of vittles. Hopefully. Plus, they were no longer starving, and had other things to occupy their minds.

"How we goin' to get off this rock?" Jonathan questioned his brother for the fifty-second time that past ten minutes. Grapple, as usual, shrugged and answered with a quiet, "Don't know…". That, which was followed by a, "How we goin' to get off this rock?" a mere two minutes later. The discussion went on fiercely for another twenty-one minutes until Mallot announced, with an intelligent index finger pointed skyward and a tri-corn hat resting over his eyes, "I'm hungry."  
With an exasperated sigh, Grapple rolled over onto his side from where he had been lying against the same mound of loot they had been at for the past hour and twenty-three minutes. The crate had been abandoned near his feet, and he stretched to kick it absently, yet missed. 

"I wonder what's up an' about at Tortuga," Jonathan mused, more to himself then to his brother.

"Tortuga is Spanish for 'turtle'," Trevor answered in the same way his brother had asked.   
Silence continued for a moment until Jonathan rolled his shoulders back and hissed in pain. He had been sitting upon a stool with a stuffed red velvet pillow on finely carved and polished wood, straight backed and with no line of vision at all. He turned his head, straightening his hat at the same time, to get a semi-look at his back. Rolling his eyes at his intention, he removed his heavy blue vest, checking to make sure all the buttons were still there, and looked at the back of his billowy white shirt that he wore. 

The fabric was torn terribly in straight lines, some going horizontal, other strikes going diagonal yet just missing being cut-off. Some patches where badly stitched back on, while others were merely dangling to the original cloth. Beneath the shirt, fierce red and white lines were draw across his back, some still having the raw-look about them and fiercely red. Others looked worn, dull and the colour was dispersing, and the red was being washed with un-tanned, pale white. There were at forty-nine scars in total, if one took the time to count.  
Leaning to the side oddly, he rotated his shoulders again and twisted his torso, resulting in a loud series of crunching sounds. Grapple winced and shifted onto his back, looking up at his brother almost worriedly. 

"All these years, and they still pester you?"

Mallot shrugged, and replied with a brisk, "The cloth irritates 'em, is all." A brief moment passed before he murmured a practically inaudible, "They still hurt sometimes. My back…hurts."

"Of course it does," Grapple said decisively, putting his hands behind his head and starring up at the rock ceiling. "You could see the bone when they were new. And when you turned into a skeleton, these little gashes like cracks was always on yore spine an' the back of the ribs." 

"I was innocent!" Jonathan said in protest, as though something Grapple had said inferred he doubted his brother's morals. 

"You could have died, you know, Jonathan! If it weren't for me, you'd have been marooned and rotting, but I got you off that sentence! You got Moses' Law instead of death!" Grapple snapped back angrily, sitting up slightly and propping himself up on his forearms. "So don't go yelling at me like it's all my fault."

"I nearly did die…" Mallot muttered scornfully before turning his head away and not looking at his brother, who was staring at him even-handedly. Then, as though considering the wounds, he turned his head away.  
"S'not like you could 'ave dressed or cleaned 'em. And you were always movin' about, re-opening whatever scabs formed…" Grapple said with a tone of understanding.

Mallot bit his bottom lip and replaced his vest, and then to avoid eye contact with his brother re-tied the light sash around his waist and re-buckled his belts. He started fidgeting with his fingers, the absence of his well-loved weapon awkward and almost saddening.   
"Remember when Sara accidentally walked in on me when I had my shirt off…?"

Grapple snorted and sneered. "And yore pants down…"

"Yeah, but, but remember what she said /after/ that? She started yelling at me to tell her what had happened, and you had to tell her the whole story because she had punched me smack in the jaw and I couldn't talk? Eh?"

"She almost didn't believe it. She didn't believe you were accused of planning a mutiny. She said you were always so dedicated to Hobbs."  
"Hobbs was a good man," Jonathan said thoughtfully, nodding his head. "I didn't really plot, though. That git, John Plugg, just didn't like me because I cracked his jaw wit' me mallet!"

"Aye! In the end, though, Sara believed us…" Grapple concluded with a nod of his head, smirking in triumph of the victory in the now aged memory. "We weren't hardly more then eighteen or fifteen, were we?"

"Naw. Not very old at'all."

Once again, silence passed between them, yet it was relaxed, without tenseness or anger. Mallot cleared his throat and turned to face his brother who was looking dreamily upwards as though the memory was far fonder then it truthfully deserved.

"Is...Is that why you married 'er? Because she was so caring?"

Grapple turned his head to look his brother in the eyes and furrowed his brows. After a moment, he sighed quietly and looked back up at the ceiling.

"She was caring, aye. But she was also a very beautiful girl, and smart. She didn't let anybody mess with her. She wasn't a whore, just a server…"

"And she fancied you," Mallot concluded with a sturdy nod, sneering slightly. Grapple chuckled and nodded. 

"Yeah…she said I looked good!"   
Both broke out into laughs, remembering the young girl who Trevor had wedded years back. 

"Oh!" Jonathan suddenly broke out and cast an almost fearful eye at Grapple. "Alice and Jamie! They're all grown up now, aren't they? What's it been, six years since we last saw 'em?"

"Jamie's twelve and Alice is eleven," Grapple said knowingly, yet then bit his lip. Last time the children had seen him; it was almost heartbreaking for the pirate. He was admittedly one of the few freebooters who was loyal to his family, and cared for them. The curse had been upon the Pearl's crew and the children caught on immediately to their father's change. He lied, telling them he was sick, and they tried to convince him to stay and not go back on the Black Pearl. Mallot had jumped in, distracting them with the 'legend' of the Aztec curse and the dazzling riches the two pirates would bring back. Hobbs had to tell the children a few days later in the morning their father and uncle had gone off sailing with Barbossa and the rest of the crew. After all, Hobbs was their guardian when Grapple and Mallot were gone. Sara had died of a fever when Alice was but a mere four months old.

"When we get out of here, I sure as Hellfire have a story to tell 'em!" Jonathan said excitedly, clapping his hands together for emphasis.   
"Just don't include the part about me getting' smashed to pieces by a rowboat."

"Naw. That's the funniest part! I can't leave it out, mate!"

~*~


	5. Hope and Determination

Title: Swimming Above The Sharks

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing these two characters. Technically, they're Disney's property… which sucks. But because they're sub-canon characters, Disney wont notice if I steal them for a while…Mwa ha ha ha…!

Summary: Mallot and Grapple discover themselves stranded, accidentally marooned, and with a hell of a lot of gold. That and Mallot intelligently points out they're not cursed any more.

Notes:  I'm finding Mallot to be a comic relief. I believe this was brought on by the incident when I was watching 'Let Them Eat Cake' again with the other deleted scenes a long while back. I got a closer look at Brye Cooper's expression and then noticed something. "He has a beard?! Mallot has a beard?! Holy @%$#!!!" to which my cat looked at me ludicrously. There fore, Mallot's evil reign of minionism came to an abrupt halt.

Chapter Five: Hope and Determination

Mallot awoke slowly, blinking his storm-grey eyes. Instead of sunlight streaming through the holes in the cave top, sunlight was replacing it. However, there wasn't much, as the eternal fog that surrounded Isle de Muerta blocked out the light. He looked around himself, the faint hope that the previous night had been but a terrible dream. However, he wasn't rewarded. Crossing his arms stiffly over his chest, he cracked his back and got up, only to trundle slowly and clumsily through the water to different piles of plunder.

Grapple awoke when the necklace of pearls landed on his face. Sitting bolt upright, he reached for the small hatchet in his belt before spotting Mallot sorting through a large mound of gold, tossing things carelessly behind him. His brother let out a triumphant squeak and bounded over to him, practically throwing himself onto his stool. With the momentum of his lurch, he almost didn't make it, and balanced on the two back legs of the seat, before nudging himself forward and setting the stool down on all four feet.

In his arms, he held a worn out sack with holes and threads falling off.

  
"What is it?" Grapple asked, stifling a yawn unsuccessfully. Mallot untied the two ropes and discarded them onto the ground before he opened the bag up and waved the flap around.

"Breakfast!" 

Peering inside the bag, he was most distressed to find at least a pound of stale bread and jarred jams. Plus, rotting peaches were thrown about in the sack, mushy, black, and everything was sticky inside the sack.

"Pleasant," Trevor muttered sarcastically, yet Mallot wasn't listening. He had withdrawn a loaf of bread, sniffed it, wrinkled his nose, smirked, and after all these actions, hit it over his knee. A loud clunking sounds like a wooden board being knocked on sounded out. The younger of the two brothers pulled a face as though somebody had just stabbed him in the ribs. He shook his head and let the pain ware off his kneecap.

"Lovely!" Drawing out a dirk from his sash with his unscathed arm, he drove it into the loaf, and after fighting for twenty minutes, managed to cut the bread in half. Another five minutes of fighting to get the lids off of the jam jars, spreading the jam over the bread, and salvaging one edible peach, he looked to his brother with a victorious smile on his face. Unfortunately, the victory was not shared, as Grapple had fallen back to sleep.

"Nice to know I'm appreciated," Mallot said, as though pondering over where a piece in a complex puzzle fit. "Oh well!" With that last comment, he made a valiant effort to actually eat the poor meal. He gave up on the bread incredibly quickly, and sporting a very sore jaw, made do with the peach. 

Waking up with a snort, Grapple sat bolt upright and looked around suspiciously. Mallot, wiping his face with a sleeve, peered at him inquisitively.

"What's wrong?"

"Shut up!" Grapple spat, and Jonathan went silent. The two pirates listened for a moment, and Grapple leapt up. He cantered through the water, falling once and being trodden upon by Mallot who had followed suit, before reaching the threshold to the passage out of the cave. 

Just visible, a rowboat sat, bumping up against the rockslide continuously. With a shout, Mallot skittered towards it, and stopped just in time to avoid throwing himself into the water. Two oars sat in the boat, and no leaking was apparent. Curiously, there was a strip of cloth, most likely from a yellow dress, clinging to a nail on a seat. Inspecting the boat, he was most unfortunately tackled into the water (after his attempts to stay out of it) by a soaking wet Grapple. 

  
  
Trevor looked the boat over quickly, ignoring the panicked struggles and feeble underwater cries from his brother, who was facedown in the water and striving to get up with his horrible back. Finally, after two minutes, Mallot's movements began to slow down and Grapple heaved the man out of the water by the collars of his shirt and vest.

"Not fun, is it?" he growled smoothly, and Mallot shook his head hastily from side to side, gasping for breath.  
"I-GAWK!" Jonathan went back down into the water; being lucky enough to have landed on his rear and only sporting damaged pride. Gingerly he got up and limped awkwardly back towards the passage.

  
"We're gettin' out of here!" Jonathan said cheerfully, turning back into the passage and treasure cave. Grapple followed after him, not sharing the cheer. 

  
"Where are were goin' to go, eh? We don't have food, or water, and that little rowboat isn't goin' to stand up to a storm."

"We'll manage."

"We'll die! There's not much hope for us, Mallot."

"Better 'n bein' trapped 'ere, ain't it?" Mallot shot back, still smiling lopsidedly, although his eyes betrayed the desperation vacant from his voice. He gathered up the worn-out sack and dumped the contents out of it before he trounced around the piles of treasure, picking up coins, goblets, silks, and anything he could possibly cram into the pack. Once it was full and tied with one rope, he flashed a reassuring grin at his brother before dragging the bag (which was probably ruining anything inside of it due to the peach mush its innards were coated in) through a few puddles of water and back through the passageway, the other rope slung over his shoulder.

  
Grapple stood still and listened to the heavy thud the bag made as his brother threw it into the boat. Then, with a heavy sigh and reluctant advance, he walked slowly back to the boat, cracking his neck as he went. When he arrived, Mallot was already sitting in the boat, testing it for sturdiness and tying the extra cable into a noose. Eyeing the noose cautiously, he gave Jonathan a questioning glance.

  
"You'll see, brother of mine!"

"I was hopin' I wouldn't…"

"Es-Cop-Eh!" Mallot cheered, and grabbed up an oar as Grapple sat down and took up the other paddle, the chains around his shoulders and back that were attached to his grapple clinking against each other and the ropes they assisted.

Between each stroke they took, Mallot pondered aloud what he was going to do with the treasure. More or less, what /they/ were going to do with the treasure. So far, he had decided they would purchase a quick Sloop and gather up a reliable crew and be captain and quartermaster. Then, they'd sail back to Isle de Muerta.

"Then, we'll gather up all the treasure our ship can carry! Just before we get back to Tortuga, we'll kill off the crew an' take all the gold for ourselves! Or, maybe we'll pick 'em off one by one, yeah, one by one. We'd have a better chance of getting' through alive if they didn't know who was goin' to kill them and not get a chance to fight back…Then we'll sail right into Tortuga and retire!"

"Or we can simply never come back 'ere again," Grapple said thoughtfully, ignoring the sudden splash of water his brother sent at him with an oar. Suddenly, Grapple found both oars in his hand, and Mallot was sitting back, with a leg slung over his other knee, tri-corn hat resting over his eyes.

  
"You row. Punishment for not being ambitious enough!"

Rolling his eyes at his younger brother, Grapple refused to dignify the confidence of youth with an argument that would now doubt get him even more soaked then he already was.

Ten minutes later, they found themselves near the spot where they had surfaced after being thrown into the sea by Elizabeth and her bloody boat. Mallot sat up and took his hat off before absently smoothing down his bandana. Grapple looked behind him in time to see the pirate stand up.

  
"What are you-"

The sentence was never finished as Mallot dived into the water, earning a rather nice score should he had been being judged, due to his straight form. Grapple, now rather sopping wet from the splash and grumbling, looked down into the water with mild curiosity. The curiosity turned into fear as two minutes passed with not a sign of his sibling surfacing. 

Down underwater, Mallot was tugging at his target-his prized weapon. His arm wound, which hadn't closed, was stinging again and yet he ignored it to the best of his abilities. The metal bars he had nailed onto the edges of his weapon were his main concern. They were what was warring him down. If he could simply get the right momentum and keep it…

He swung the weapon in frustration, a wide arc over his head and discovered the weapon carried him a foot and some upwards. With a devious grin on his face, he realized he could cheat the dragging weight and swung again, being dragged in the water another foot. He found himself needing to breath, and looked up.

Grapple was leaning over the side of the boat, straining to see through the dark waters, when a hammer's head swung up and latched onto the railing. Falling back, he watched as his brother dragged himself over the wall and collapsed onto the bottom of the boat, panting.

"Got it!" he huffed triumphantly, still clutching the handle of his namesake weapon.

"You stubborn fool," Grapple scolded, trying not to laugh and look vicious. However, his expression was more or less ruined by the grin creeping onto his lips.

"Naw. Determined!" came the breathy response and Trevor gave up, breaking out in laughter with his brother.

~*~

Softbrush: Hey Softy! Good to hear from you! Glad you like the story. Keep reviewing! ;P

Lady J. Riddle: Softy recommended it?! She did? *crams cookies in your mouth for listening to Softbrush* Thanks for stopping by and checking it out! I have about thirteen more chapters written, so the story isn't about to come to an abrupt halt and not be updated! Keep reading! :D 


	6. Whether the Weather Holds

Title: Swimming Above The Sharks

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing these two characters. Technically, they're Disney's property…which sucks. But because they're sub-canon characters, Disney wont notice if I steal them for a while…Mwa ha ha ha…!

Summary: Mallot and Grapple discover themselves stranded, accidentally marooned, and with a hell of a lot of gold. That and Mallot intelligently points out they're not cursed any more.

Notes:  Silly putty is fun. Bounce, bounce, bounce…

I now realize why Mallot's a comic relief. He laughed as though watching the Comedy Network when he and Grapple re-kidnapped Elizabeth. The only reason I'm telling you this is because I have already forgotten why he's so fun to write…Maybe you can remind me? *blinks innocently* ;)

Chapter Six: Whether the Weather Holds

The fog surrounding Isle de Muerta could have easily been cut with a knife, which was exactly what Mallot was trying to do with his dirk. Wildly, he swung the blade through the air and sliced cleanly through the miasma, muttering quiet insults to it. He abruptly stopped when cold water splashed onto his front side from an angered stroke of oars.

"Oy, watch it!" he snapped at Grapple, who growled back in response.

"Yore already soakin' wet, it doesn't make much of a difference!"

Starting to shiver from the combination of the cold water, being soaked for so long, and reminded he was soaked, Jonathan only shot his brother a nasty glance before looking the other way and towards where they were going. In the fog, however, the shapes of the sunken ships that had attempted to sail into the bay were sparse and barely visible.

"Yo ho, yo ho…" Mallot began singing softly, humming the rest of the words for lack of knowing what those words were. He began drumming his bare fingers on the wood of their boat, trying to keep with the tune of the song that had only ever brushed his mind once before. A loud crack broke the air and he suddenly looked around himself, wildly trying to find the source of the noise.

  
"Relax," Grapple casually said, nudging his head to the oar in his right hand and slapping it against the side again, once again causing the startling sound. The elder of the two tossed the long ponytail of black hair, which had gathered in front of his shoulders, back behind his back where it rested between his shoulder blades. Slouching terribly, he ignored the envious glare Mallot gave him by hiding his vision behind the greasy locks of dark hair that fell before his eyes.

Muttering profanities under his breath, Jonathan turned himself around and gazed at the dissipating fog. The sunken vessels were fewer and manoeuvring around them as his brother had done wasn't so much a task now. Instead, the mist was clearing up suddenly and the sun was once again visible. The island, itself, seemed to be shrinking back into Hell where it came from, getting smaller every stroke of the oars that was taken. The sky was a clear blue, from what the crippled pirate could tell, white clouds rolling across it.

"Y'eh don't have to row anymore, you know. You've done a good share, for the time bein'…"

Grapple snorted and shook his head, pulling his torso and arms back as he rowed back. "You'd do no good. Can't bend yore back or anything, so you'd be slower."

"Suit yourself," Mallot said with a lazy drawl, lying back carefully into the bow of the boat's innards. Tilting his hat over his eyes, he sneered and proclaimed he wasn't going to argue over his brother's choice.

Eventually, his eyes felt heavy regardless they were closed, and the sounds of water being disturbed grew distant. All to suddenly, he lost his cognisant state and went into a peaceful slumber; A sleep that, unfortunately, didn't last long. 

Another loud crack like the oar against the boat sounded out, and Jonathan awoke with a start, pushing his hat back and without moving anything but his neck, looked around before remembering he was in a boat.

"Damn, Grapple! Keep it down already!"  
"I can't control the weather, you idiot," Grapple spat back, his voice slightly breathy as though he had been enduring some testy physical activity. He paused, rested his arms, and looked down for a moment.

  
"I told you we could encounter a storm," Trevor said, and as if on cue a light rain started to pour down upon them. He brought the oars in, and after poking his brother in the chest with the wet end of a paddle, he set it down and looked at the sky, which was steadily growing greying and darker.

"Es-Cop-Eh?" Mallot said hopefully, grinning with false innocence. He strained to get up and eventually had to hoist himself up using the railing of their boat to raise his torso, kicking he bag of loot he had rescued out of his way. 

Wincing slightly at his back, he brushed a greasy tress of hair from his face. His long hair was just as dark as his brothers, but tended to form in stringy locks that were uneven and fell in front of his face, sometimes curtaining his cheeks. At his shoulders, it bunched into a ponytail with a short end, tied with a dark strip of cloth. He proceeded to tighten the belt around his waist, adjusting the buckle so it went up a notch, just to spite his brother by appearing not overly worried about the oncoming storm.  
"Surely we can weather the weather!" Jonathan joked, winking his right eye and avoiding a poke with an oar.

Growling at the naivety of his sibling, Grapple brandished his namesake weapon at the youth before giving up on threatening any sense into him. He picked up the oars again started rowing. 

"Look around yourself."

Complying, Mallot took the time to look around their surroundings. All he could see was water…ocean, water, some more ocean, a bit more water, and…ocean. A big blue wet thing just waiting for the storm to hurry up so they would be tossed out of the boat and it could swallow them up.

Biting his lower lip, he failed to notice he had punctured it until he drew blood. Grumbling, he shrugged and grinned at his brother. "Water never hurt us before!" Then, as if to spite him, the weight of the water collected in his tri-corn hat's brims overpowered the cap, and the hat fell in front of his face, drenching his front side. 

  
  
"That's reassuring," Grapple teased sarcastically. As his brother fussed with his hat, the wind chose the moment to pick up and the ocean water began to churn, slowly at first but it steadily grew violent and the Caribbean storm showed itself.

Rain steadily poured down, and a mere twenty minutes later, perhaps not even, the two were, once again, drenched, cold, miserable, and Mallot had bent his hat out of shape. He had now adopted an angry tone, yelling his complaints over the wind of how long it would take him to fix the hat. Yet his screams suddenly came to an abrupt halt when he chanced a glance to the side. In the distance, a small island, hardly the size of a civilized town, was visible. 

  
"Look! Grapple!" Mallot yelled over the howling winds, yet his brother ignored him. He called out once more, and his brother looked up to where he was pointing. The oars had been abandoned for a while now, and instead his hands clutched the railing of the boat firmly, trying not to get washed overboard.  
"I see it!" Trevor yelled back, yet a wave went high and clashed into his side, causing him to choke upon the salty water. In his fit, his grip relaxed and the next wave caught him off guard.

"Oy!" his brother lunged forward, using his mallet to balance himself, yet it was to late. Yet, by some stroke of luck, Grapple wasn't lost. His weapon had come loose from his sash and the single barb on it had hooked onto the railing, not letting the wave take him. The foot and a half of rope and chain that gave the weapon slack went taught and Trevor let out a choking sound, an 'ouf', and a curse word all at the same time.

Things went from unlucky, lucky, and then to unlucky again, but the next incident stole the cake (to which neither pirate had still acquired since the curse had been lifted). An oar, which had long been abandoned in the bottom of their boat, was slammed by a wave sloshing water into the boat. It washed out, yet not before the paddle's head smacked into the side of Grapple's skull. The pirate's eyes rolled once and he tried to lift his head, but staying awake was futile. He became unconscious not a moment after.

"Hey! Stay awake!" Mallot scolded frantically, "I can't exactly complain to myself!" 

Had he have dropped his heavy weapon, lunging forward to rescue Trevor might have worked out. He would have grabbed the rope and dragged his brother back into the boat. However, he held firmly onto the handle, and the next lash of water smacked him hard. The hammer twisted in his hand and struck his directly in the face. Dazed, he crumpled over, the pain in his back finishing him off.

~*~


	7. Almost Lost

Title: Swimming Above The Sharks

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing these two characters. Technically, they're Disney's property… which sucks. But because they're sub-canon characters, Disney wont notice if I steal them for a while…Mwa ha ha ha…!

Summary: Mallot and Grapple discover themselves stranded, accidentally marooned, and with a hell of a lot of gold. That and Mallot intelligently points out they're not cursed any more.

Notes:  Hmm. Not much action in this chapter, yet it all means something, so don't bother yourself to be bothered. ; )

Chapter Seven: Almost Lost

The throbbing pain in his skull woke him up, and he stirred, every limb aching with a vicious hurt. The overwhelming scent of smoke and waterlogged wood came over his senses and he tried to move; yet an enormous weight seemed to hold him down. He tried to shift, to push up, yet couldn't.

_Move. Fight this._

He wheezed with the effort, coughing sand from his nose and mouth. He made the mistake of opening his eyes, immediately shutting them tightly as they filled with silt. He stilled for a moment, and realized his left arm was molten with pain. Slowly, he tried to curl it against him, bellowing to dull the pain, yet it was pinned under something heavy. Tugging it felt like dragging his limb through serrated jaws. Finally, he had his arm folded tightly against him.

Yelling out, his voice came back to him, echoing fiercely and deafening. His mind reeled as the image came to him. Buried thousands of feet under the earth, unable to get out.  
"No," he told himself, coughing on sand and mud. He thrashed and flexed, feeling whatever was holding him down give way and tumble off to the side, with much sound of crunching and breaking wood.

  
  
Sunlight filled his closed lids and he rolled onto his back, breathing hard from terror and pain. Slowly, he flickered his dark eyes open and was met with harsh raw light. He blinked tears and dust away, trying to remember what had happened. Who was he? What was his name? Why should all of this make sense to him? 

  
  
He closed his eyes and breathed deep, trying to remember, and exhaled shakily. A dark sky, something dragging him away from safety, a loud crack, rock and glinting metal everywhere.   
"Grapple…" he muttered his name; thankful he could at least recall that much.

His eyes snapped open and he looked at the blue sky, white clouds rolling merrily along. Something was wrong. He listened intently. No sounds of wildlife met him, no sound of wind, no water, nothing…Yet that wasn't all. He stilled, only moving his chest as he breathed.

His heart wasn't beating.

  
Wildly, he swung himself up and gave his chest a hard whack. He coughed and thrashed, trying to get the steady pound to start again.

"Beat, damnit!" he cried, and suddenly felt a cool sensation come over him. Then the sun faded, and he felt himself fall back.

Mallot was more fortunate. He awoke with a volcanic pain in his face, his head sore and body aflame with agony. Yet he felt…He breathed, finding himself on his right side, crushing his right arm. He opened his storm-grey eyes and winced at the sudden, unexpected burst of sunlight that danced over his optics. He let out a groan of pain and rolled onto his back, sucking a sharp breath in through his clenched teeth.

He closed his eyes tightly and waited. What he was waiting for, he didn't know. The storm had been fierce and the last thing he recalled was Grapple getting washed overboard by a large wave, and leaping forward to save him. Then something had swung up in front of him and gave him a hard clonk in the face. Knowing he must of blacked out, he lifted a hand and gently felt his face and head for any signs of damage. He found nothing out of the ordinary except for his head hurting mainly on the crown.

Breathing deep with relief, he clenched both his hands, and realized something was wrong. His weapon was gone…He sat up slowly, gently rubbing the back of his head, and cried out in alarm as a sharp pain streaked through his back, reminding him he shouldn't curve his spine. He winced and sat still for a moment, before slowly looking around his surroundings.

Sand was all around in front of him, the sea lurking out behind it, washing up to caress the shore before retreating back again. To the left, there were the remains of the boat. It had been cracked right in half by something, sharp boards pointing out from the split. Lightening must have struck the more ruined bow, for it was in a large pile, taken apart by some disastrous force and smoking, a few white coals still glowing fiercely. The bag of treasure had been lost, unfortunately, but he felt a relieved feeling it hadn't been his life. Behind him, a thick forest of trees and bush hid whatever was behind them, yet he noticed the ground was more hard mud then sand. 

  
  
Thinking perhaps it was a strange bog; he sniffed the air and found no offending scents. Slowly, he tried to get up, holding onto his dried hat. He then noticed he was completely dried, which meant he had been lying there for at least an hour, probably more. Amazing how it had stayed on his head the entire time, he thought and tried not to smirk in amusement. He struggled into a kneeling position and started teetering on his feet when the oddest thing happened.

The bushes moved. He turned to look, and discovered something even odder. The bushes were not anything he had ever seen in the Caribbean. In fact, the forest was nothing he had ever seen, anywhere! Some of the trees were palms, coconuts growing from them, or bananas. Others wore pine needles, or sharp leaves that looked like acorns. Even stranger, some trees wore both kinds of leaves! Nettles met with deciduous leaves, bananas grew side by side on ferns, and oak trees bore coconuts…

He was sure that wasn't normal. Plus the bush was still moving. He winced, turning himself halfway around and stared directly at it. "Grapple?" he called out, almost expecting to see the strong pirate emerge and explain everything to him. Yet he knew it wasn't to be. Instead, a few voices, soft and wispy like traveling on a breeze, flew about. They were odd, distant as though being yelled across the deck or from the crow's nest. 

  
He opened his mouth to shout something, not quite sure what he would say, but was abruptly silenced when a piercing pain on the back his head broke out. He growled gutturally, like a violent wildcat, finding his vision blurred drastically and his torso swayed from side to side hypnotically. The voices became louder, eventually forming into a pounding in his ears. Blurred shapes emerged from the bushes, but by then it was to late and he collapsed backwards.

~*~


	8. Elders, Rudagull, and Arguments

Title: Swimming Above The Sharks

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing these two characters. Technically, they're Disney's property…which sucks. But because they're sub-canon characters, Disney wont notice if I steal them for a while…Mwa ha ha ha…!

Summary: Mallot and Grapple discover themselves stranded, accidentally marooned, and with a hell of a lot of gold. That and Mallot intelligently points out they're not cursed any more.

Notes:  I always wanted natives to leap out and attack Jack and Elizabeth when they were marooned on the island, then Jack would do something comical and they're start worshipping him as their God or something. Obviously, that never happened. Well GUESS WHAT?! *points below to the story* There are a few references to Kennith Oppel's Firewing novel, such as the odd way to identify somebody who is alive and somebody who is dead. 

Also, I'm only going to give replies every few chapters to those that reviewed. I apologize if you think I'm ignoring you. I'm not. I'm secretly worshiping you as my Divine Entity and sacrificing squirrels before a golden alter. Well…no, not really.

Chapter Eight: Elders, Rudagull, and Arguments

The sudden sensation of cold brought him back, and he gasped greedily for air, sucking in every breath he could, exhaling sharply and inhaling again. Mallot tried to sit up yet discovered he couldn't. Something was holding him down, and he was lying on his back. He opened his eyes and saw nothing but darkness. Had he gone blind? It was the only explanation…Trying not to panic, he struggled to sit up again, and found he lifted an inch, but something roughly pushed him back down.

"Lemme up," he wheezed, his throat sore and his mouth dry. There was no saliva and his tongue felt foreign in his mouth. He wanted water, salt water, warm water, anything, but he wanted a drink! Something clamped over his mouth and pinched his nose, and he became terrified he was being suffocated. He thrashed, or tried to, yet a brush of air by his ear and a voice whispering stilled him.

  
"Be quiet, sparkly-fur!" it hissed. Clearly trying to kill him was a way to tell him to calm down. It hadn't worked.

Other voices whispered and muttered, some barked out harsh commands in a freakish language, others remarked and seemed to try to talk to him, in English and other languages.

"…Mahadevi sent him…"

"…Welb sah ha rats…"

"…shines like the moon…"

"…n'es pas un mort…"

"…maybe a pretty stone…"

"…la manera los resplandores ligeros …"

"…the shine of him…"

Mallot's eyes began to see things again. The colour slowly leaked back into his vision yet was blotted at first. Soon, the splotches of mingled dye formed shapes and odd blurs. The blurs became clearer until he could make out the smudged form of humans. There were at least ten around him, maybe more, and they soon realized his eyes were working again. A few of the seemingly younger ones were scolded and they turned away and ran or strutted arrogantly off.

The smudges cleared, and he found himself looking at seven people, yet they were not what he would call normal. Five were very aged, with wrinkled, cracked skin that was tanned. Four of them had deformities, such as a crumpled and limp arm or a severely hunched back. The three younger ones looked even worse. They were either cut and scarred horribly, or looked as though they had just gotten away from a horribly agonizing death.

"…awake…"

"…Awake!…"

The voices grew clearer, closer.

"He's awake!" an aged man with a large gash on the side of his head where grey hair was missing exclaimed.

"Quiet, now!" one of the younger ones, a rather beautiful girl with long black hair flowing to her waist, yet a terrible scar going across her neck and right cheek, scolded severely.   
Mallot looked up and met eyes with an aged, wrinkled, black woman who looked positively ancient looming over him. She never parted her lips to say something, and merely took her hands away from his face before hobbling terribly into the crowd around him.

Looking around, he found himself in a shelter of some sort. Sticks and mud composed most of it, yet it was large enough to accommodate everybody inside quite comfortably. Wincing, he tried to sit up, yet the aged lady hobbled back and shoved him with surprising strength back down.

"Yal!" she said, her voice holding an odd ringing in the back, and immediately everyone became silent. She looked over Mallot, removing his hat for a moment (he didn't even respond to the offence, she seemed so threatening, regardless of her age), nodding occasionally. 

"Seh eliva," she proclaimed, and the murmuring started up again. 

"Zira says he's alive!" proclaimed the old man who originally stated he was awake.   
"Yes, Falstaff, we know," the pretty girl with the scarred throat said. In the murmurs of agreement, Mallot learned her name was Luna. She looked tribal, like from the Native savages from the Americas…

"I don't believe her!" an old lady near the back of the group shrieked, her wild white hair flying out in all directions, and her crumpled form causing her to loose balance. Her name was Jorrick. A few grumbles from the old folk who had not spoken agreed with Jorrick, from others like Alamo and Kanzuu, identical Spanish twins with burned fleshy faces. 

A rather cheeky looking old man with a silly lopsided smile stepped forward and shook his head. He wore the remains of a large red coat, black breeches and boots. He looked friendly, yet almost as a dead pirate. Mallot looked at him and nearly threw up. A large section of his ribcage was showing through, encrusted with old, dried black blood and sick yellow and green scabs scattered over the edges of the wound.  
"He's glowing! He has to be alive," he said with a Spanish accent.

"You lie, Rifktump!" Jorrick screamed at him.

"Evael! Luna, yats," Zira croaked out, and the rest of the people complied almost immediately. Jorrick gave Mallot a disgusted look; while Rifktump smiled friendly at him, showing black, rotted teeth, before pushing Jorrick out of the shelter.

"Don't worry, we're going to take care of you," Luna said soothingly. Mallot tried to turn his head to look at her directly but it was numb, and almost paralysed. Luna smiled comfortingly at him and knelt on the other side of him from Zira, who was still crouching on his left. Luna brushed her hand along his cheek and left arm, pursing her lips in thought. She was much younger then the others who had spoken about him as though he was not there. 

  
"What…what were they talking about? I glow?" Jonathan said weakly, his voice raspy and throat dry from no water. He tried to form spit in his mouth to swallow; yet there was nothing. 

"They think you're dead. Everybody who comes to this island is dead. Rudagull. You'll be dead to, soon enough. Just like that other man who came here…with the clawed weapon and chains around his shoulders."

"Grapple!" Mallot said, his voice scared and eyes wide.

~*~

~*~Logical Philosophy~*~ Good to hear from you! I appreciate your detailed reviews. Really, I do. You get a cookie. ; ) My sister is behind me, reading your review, and…she's arguing that Grapple is better looking…So…*kaff* I'll stand back and let you two debate over it! ; P *grabs popcorn and stands back* Of course, she's a huge fan of dead actors…ANYHOOT, Mallot is supposed to be the comic relief of the two, but he turns a little serious in the future chapters…But that's all the spoilers you're going to get!

Mallot: *leaps out and tackles* Whoot!


	9. Glow

Title: Swimming Above The Sharks

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing these two characters. Technically, they're Disney's property…which sucks. But because they're sub-canon characters, Disney wont notice if I steal them for a while…Mwa ha ha ha…! 

ANY OTHER CHARACTER IS MINE! EXCEPT for those in the movie, such as Koehler, and Barbossa.

Summary: Mallot and Grapple discover themselves stranded, accidentally marooned, and with a hell of a lot of gold. That and Mallot intelligently points out they're not cursed any more.

Notes:  BWA HA HA HA! I bet you were all so SHOCKED to discover Grapple is DEAD! MWA  HAHAHA-*hack cough choke gag*-HA…hehehe…ha ha…heh…Ahem. Well, at least I hope you all were. Naw, I know these things. I'm psychotic. I mean psychic, I'm psychic!

Mallot: *randomly jumps out from nowhere* Es-Cop-Eh! ;)

Chapter Nine: Glow

"He can't be dead…If I'm alive, he's surely alive. He's…stronger then me! _Look_ at him!"

"He doesn't glow like you, though," Luna said innocently, like a child asking why the sky was blue.   
"I don't glow, damn it!" Mallot snapped, looking at himself to make sure. Indeed, there was nothing odd about him. Luna recoiled quickly, drawing back from him. Zira gave Mallot a smack across the face and he blinked, his cheek stinging with pain.

"Don't do that," he said slowly, frowning.   
"Zira is the chief elder here at Rudagull. She's the one that found you, with another man…He wasn't an elder, but was smart enough to be one. He is new to the island though."

"What…who? Aug," Jonathan groaned, his head throbbing and his mind confused.

"Rudagull is the island where the dead go to if they haven't been placed. Most don't believe they're dead at first, but they realize it after a while. The man knew right away…" Luna explained, smiling slightly and gently caressing his cheek.

"We are all dead here. Zira, me, Rifktump, Jorrick…All of us. We are the elders, the leaders. It is our job to help the dead realize they're dead."

"You don't look old," Mallot commented, and Luna smiled.  
"I was young when I died. Over a thousand years ago."

Mallot's breath caught in his throat and he choked at the information. Luna smiled, patted his chest lightly, and he realized how cold her touch was. Shivering, he tried to shuffle away from the offending graze, but couldn't muster the strength to.

"You glow because you are not dead. Your life is still with you. Yet the glow isn't as bright as some I've seen. Occasionally, the living make it to this island, washed upon the shores by a storm, or marooned and left to die…"

She gave him a thoughtful look.  
"Grapple, you called the other man, he glowed for a while as well, but it faded away. He died," she told him softly, consolingly. 

"No, no he's alive," Mallot chuckled, disbelieving. He coughed, his throat to dry to laugh anymore.

"The living can not linger where the dead live. What's your name?"

"My…my name?" he thought for a moment. "Mallot," he answered after a while, conditioned to be suspicious of people who asked his name.

She lifted her chin to look at him and he cringed. What she said had to be true. Everybody here was dead. Her throat had been slit…the scar was red and looked raw, yet she was dead, and so cold…

"No!" he yelled, trying to sit up but crying out in pain from his back and falling back to the ground. Zira smacked him across the face again but he didn't care. He was going to die. Grapple was already dead; Luna had said…He was going to die…

"Yats!"  
"She says stay, stay still, Mallot," Luna translated.

Slowly, he rolled onto his stomach. Luna backed away, almost fearfully. Zira watched from the doorway where she had backed up to, arms crossed over her chest, the pirate's hat dangling loosely on a coiled finger. He propped himself up onto his arms, grimacing at the pain in his left arm, until he was doing a sit-up. He bent his knees carefully, and quickly swung himself up so he was kneeling. Slowly, he crouched and rose up into a standing position.  
"I am not…staying…still," he wheezed through clenched teeth. Swaying from side to side slightly, he made for the doorway. Zira stood still, directly in his way.  
"Move," he ordered weakly, and she, surprisingly, moved to the side to let him pass, casting sad eyes upon him.

  
Hesitatingly, he grabbed his hat and walked through the threshold. Shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight, he stumbled on the hard, compacted mud ground. His eyes adjusted and came to meet a small village, where the old, young, and prime aged dead settled together like families. A few gave him scared looks, as though expecting him to lunge and attack them. Another bunch scurried away, while some pointed and whispered excitedly to him.  
"…the glow…"

"…Mahadevi…"  
"…he's shimmering…"

"…I don't know…"

"…moonlight, he does…"

Confused and angry at the whispers, he glared at everybody who looked at him, slamming his hat on his head. Yet his threatening look was ignored, and they continued to point and whisper as though he was blind and deaf. He growled in the same animal-like way from before, causing more then a few to give him terrified looks and back away, muttering as they were frightened. Except one.

The tackle was unexpected and caught Mallot completely by surprise. He was easily put to the ground and the wind was knocked out of him. His eyes rolled with the blow, and when he finally focused on his attacker, he nearly cried out in surprise.

  
  
A brightly painted face with a worn, orange X going across it, black dreadlocks and a worn, blue coat with large sleeves. Rancid breath and a powerful grip…

"Koehler?!" Mallot exclaimed, starring up at his old crewmate.

"How do you know my name?" Koehler growled, his right hand suddenly flying to the living pirate's throat and gripping it in a chokehold.

"I…We sailed…together!" Jonathan choked out, gasping for breath.

"I know you…" Koehler said after a moment, yet bared his teeth in anger and his grip tightened.

"NEIN!" Luna's voice suddenly screamed and Mallot felt something lift from him. A silver mist, sparse yet bright, started lifting from him. Koehler suddenly leaped off of Mallot, yelling in a tribal language at Luna, threatening her, yet backing away. The mist settled over Mallot, before sinking into him. The weight returned.

Luna knelt at Mallot's side, still screaming at Koehler, who decided enough was enough and scampered away. Mallot gingerly rubbed the front of his neck, which was turning red from the force of the dead pirate's hold.

"He…tried to _kill_ me! He _knows_ me!" Mallot said shakily, hysterically, laughing and shaking at the same time.  
"There are some dead…who want their life back. They realized they were dead and didn't accept it. When a living one makes it to Rudagull, they will try to steal the life, the glow…Koehler is new, you know…If you knew him, you probably helped him remember more…"

"Is _everybody_ going to attack me?!" Mallot barked, and Luna winced, shaking her head from side to side.

"What's goin' on 'ere?" a cracked voice, aged by time, raspy and rattling, demanded from behind Luna. Mallot looked around her form to glimpse a feathered hat with a large, rounded brim that had seen better days.

"Mallot, this is the man that found Grapple."

"Mallot…?" the man asked quietly, stepping to the side and starring at Jonathan.

"Captain!" Jonathan squeaked, blinking owlishly at Hector Barbossa.

"Jonathan!" a familiar, deep voice resounded beside the dead pirate captain, strained as though pained, and Grapple threw himself on the other side of Mallot, kneeling over him protectively and checking for damage.  
"Grapple…" Mallot muttered, closing his eyes and shaking his head. 

~*~


	10. A Familiar Face and Something is Solved

Title: Swimming Above The Sharks

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing these two characters. Technically, they're Disney's property…which sucks. But because they're sub-canon characters, Disney wont notice if I steal them for a while…Mwa ha ha ha…! 

ANY OTHER CHARACTER IS MINE! EXCEPT for those in the movie, such as Koehler, Jacoby, Nipperkin, Monk, or Barbossa.

Summary: Mallot and Grapple discover themselves stranded, accidentally marooned, and with a hell of a lot of gold. That and Mallot intelligently points out they're not cursed any more.

Notes:  *grins* Having fun reading? I love writing this story…Another familiar face appears in this chapter.

Chapter Ten: A Familiar Face and Something is Solved

"You're alive, good…I was worried," Grapple muttered, standing back up with a wince and offering Mallot his right hand, keeping his left arm behind his back. His brother accepted and was pulled up, wincing as usual from his back. A few spectators had gathered around, Mallot recognizing another former crewmate called Monk who probably had been killed fighting off the navy…No, he had been left in the cave, at Isle de Muerta. Odd, Mallot thought, he had never seen any other bodies aside from Barbossa's.  

"Hector, Mallot should know what killed Grapple," Luna said knowledgably. Grapple gave her a highly irritated look and snapped back.

"I'm not dead!" 

"Actually, you are," Barbossa said calmly, almost annoyed as though he had explained it to many others.

Grapple growled, and with a wild swing of his right arm, Monk was crumpled on the ground, clutching a broken nose, and whimpering in pain from the punch Trevor had threw at him.

"Pretty good for a dead man," Trevor remarked lightly.

"I knew it!" Mallot said excitedly. Luna gave him a sad look and slowly shook her head. Jonathan ignored her. "I knew you weren't dead! Luna said you were, but I knew it wasn't possible? Eh, tell her I'm not glowing! Y'eh don't see a glow, do you?"

Grapple starred hard at Mallot for a moment, a puzzled look about his face, before he raised a brow. "They said I glowed when I first came 'ere, but it disappeared." Regardless he hadn't directly given his brother an answer; Mallot went on as if he had.

"See? I don't glow!" Jonathan proclaimed.

"You're brighter then a full moon when we were cursed," Barbossa said bitterly, a hand absently going over his heart and gingerly brushing his fingertips against the jacket he wore, which had been closed shut over that one spot.

"No, I'm not! I don't glow! None of you glow, either. I'm alive, Grapple's alive, we just got stranded here!" Mallot suddenly fell silent, a look of utter shock on his face. He was starring at Grapple as though his sibling was, indeed, the walking dead. Which wasn't far off. Not even the curse could have prepared him for what met his eyes.  
Grapple's left arm was entirely singed, violently red and raw looking, infected in a third degree burn. A spot of his skin was torn open, and protruding from the blood dried over it, the bone beneath was visible. His hand was in a similar condition, burned and red, yet there were more cuts over his forearm and hand, as though it had been dragged through a legion of very sharp objects. Puss was seeping out slowly yet obviously, tinged yellow.

"My God…" Mallot whispered, stepping back. His eyes were wide in fear and disbelief, and he continued backing away as though being approached by a wild animal. Grapple took a step forward, a look of confused concern on his face, yet the moment his boot hit the ground, Mallot had bolted as though a gun had been fired at him. He ran quickly, wheezing and choking weakly through tears of pain, confusion, fear, and raw emotion. 

He galloped through the freakish trees, cutting himself on the sharp branches with sap oozing off it onto the maple leaves on the lower branches. The hard ground became soft again, and he tripped as the sand replaced the dried mud, breaking out of the forest and onto the beech. He rushed, tripping, stumbling, occasionally putting a hand on the ground when he stooped to low, crying in pain and fear, realization and weakness. He wanted to get to the boat halves…he _had_ to get to the boats! His brother's body would be there he knew, but as much as he didn't want to see it, it wasn't an option…he had to get there…

He had seen Barbossa's dead body back as the island, yet he was here on Rudagull. Perhaps it had been his ghost in a solid form? That meant that Grapple's body would be by the boats, where Luna told him Grapple had been found. And what was the glow they all spoke of? He didn't glow! Perhaps, Mallot thought, because he was alive he couldn't see his own glow. Yet Grapple had said he didn't glow, either…

He tripped over something in his distracted state and fell face-first into the ground, three feet from the charred, burned and collapsed boat halves. Without moving, he inhaled; accidentally sucking up sand into his parched throat, crying whatever water was left in him out in the form of tears. He tore his hat off and clutched it tightly in his right hand, trying to focus on crushing the worn leather, trying to convince himself it wasn't true…

  
Then, on some freakish, improbable intuition, he thought he recognized the shape of what he had tripped on. He slowly lifted his head to look back and see if it were indeed what it was. Behind him, his mallet lay still, as though carefully placed there to make sure he tripped. Biting his bottom lip hard, he drew blood yet ignored it. What was some more pain to add to his day, he figured?

He sighed and put his head back onto the sand, his chin resting in it so he could see and wouldn't breathe in the silt. He starred at the abandoned wreckage, daydreaming about something, something more comforting and happy…anything. He was dead, even if he glowed…He would die here…Somebody would steal his life, or he'd die of dehydration…

Grapple had given chase to his brother, his arm throbbing yet he tried to keep up in his staggering walk. Eventually, he stopped to inspect his arm, which was hurting, burning hot, agonizing…He walked, towards the beech, wondering why his brother would have gone somewhere where it would be to blindly easy to find him, when he could have lost anybody in the dense forest surrounding the other sides of the village. 

  
  
He cradled his arm against his chest, muttering criticism at his brother to take his mind off of the pain. Eventually, he started wondering about the odd glow everybody at the village kept talking about. They had said he glowed at first, as well, yet the strange light had seeped into him. It was the only thing about Rudagull that didn't make sense. The dead did linger there, seeing Barbossa proved it. Grapple had seen the dead man's body himself!

  
"Mallot," he yelled out, calling the name a few times before frustration took over and he screamed at his brother. "Get back here, you idiotic sack of shit!"

He broke through the tree line and tripped over the unexpected sand. He walked clumsily through it, going towards the water. Strange, he thought, that he hadn't heard the water wash against the shore when he remembered passing out. When he woke up, the leader of the village, Zira, was leaning over him, pressing down on his chest hard a few times, Barbossa standing over her looking doubtful.   
"Ti dedaf," she said thoughtfully, when Barbossa informed her "His glow went out."

He paused in his trek.  His glow had simply gotten snuffed out, yet when Koehler had tried to strangle Mallot, the mist lifted from him…And Mallot was alive, everybody kept telling him that, while they told Grapple he was dead…It was indeed an odd thing, the glow.

"Mallot!" he called out, before looking over to the boat wreckage. There, lying on his front side in the sand was Mallot, looking very still and without a glow. Grapple charged, galloping towards the wreckage, his arm throbbing more painfully as he neared it. 

"Jonathan!" he yelled, sliding next to his brother. Mallot merely raised his eyebrows; his eyes closed, and grinned.

"Hey," he said weakly. A sudden silvery light surrounded him and Grapple gasped as the 'glow' became visible. Suddenly, it started lifting, floating off of his brother, ever so slowly dissipating like mist. 

"Open yore eyes," Grapple ordered. Mallot shook his head weakly. "NOW!" Trevor barked out and his brother complied reluctantly. The mist hovered, lowered a smidgen, and yet stayed weakly over Mallot.

"He's dying. He'll soon be dead, just like me," a voice said behind Grapple, who turned and saw the familiar burning dreadlocks in Jacoby's beard, the odd red cap and baggy clothing.

"Jacoby…?"

The pirate nodded. He looked very sickly, his arms clutched around his stomach and ribcage as though they were in severe pain.   
"How-?"

"Granado got stuffed in me in the moonlight. Then, the Turner whelp and girl pushed me _out _of the moonlight." Jacoby looked thoughtful for a moment. "Nipperkin an' Monk should be 'ere, to…" He chuckled idly and prodded his stomach. "I just needed a physical form, so 'ere I am for all to see!"

"I'm not dead," Grapple said, desperately trying to convince the other. Jacoby titled his head back and laughed heartily.

"Of course you're not! Don't see your dead body 'anging around anywhere, do you?"

Grapple looked around, and discovered that, indeed, there was no dead body belonging to him lying around. Mallot looked up and around as well, a grim look on his face. 

"Well, I'll be God damned…"

"You will if you miss that ship on the 'orizon!" Jacoby chuckled. He pointed out to sea, slightly to his right, and both living pirates looked out. A small black dot on the horizon was visible. The three stayed silent for ten minutes, watching it, and then realized it was coming towards the island.

Grapple sprung up, and grabbed Jacoby roughly by the pirate's collar. With much protesting from him, Grapple dragged him over to the un-burned half of the boat, and grabbed his beard.

"'Ey!" Jacoby shouted, yet as Grapple put the lit copper wedges to the wood of the ship, he suddenly realized what was happening.

"Stay there!" Grapple ordered, and dashed back towards the mismatched forest. He returned, five minutes later, with an armful of greenery, leaves, sticks, branches covered in pine needles and green leaves, bark stripped from the trees, and all sorts of material to make smoke.

  
  
He dumped the pile onto the top of the over-turned boat half, and Jacoby held a dreadlock to a branch. Minutes later (and with much cursing), a small flame evolved and smoke whirled around it. The two fully conscious pirates cheered, Mallot merely grinning and muttering a quiet "Wonderful," as the flame grew, as did the amount of smoke.

The ship steadily grew nearer, and after sitting Mallot up, the three pirates waited. However, Jacoby soon departed, explaining how he could not return, and frankly didn't want to have his life back. The village was peaceful, and if he wasn't placed, he'd remain there.  
"What's placin', anyways?" Mallot inquired. Jacoby grinned.

"The elders choose Hell or Heaven for you."

"Ah."

Waving goodbye to Jacoby's form stalking off into the forest, Mallot looked up at his brother standing beside him.

"I don't suppose I'm still glowing, am I?"

Grapple looked down and smiled, tapping his goateed chin a few times before nodding his head. "Yore glowing."

"Good, I think. Your arm looks terrible."

~*~

End of Chapter Notes: Mallot is glowing now because he's DYING, not DEAD. The living can see the DYING glow on the island, but not the LIVING glow. See? *grins innocently*  
Zira was giving Grapple CPR. He only awoke when she was at the '5 sets of 15' part, and luckily missed the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation! *snickers* just to explain /why/ exactly he's alive. I suspect they didn't know about CPR back then but, Zira is…well, Zira! Need I say anymore?


	11. Captain Dubow, Son of Dubow and Dubow’s ...

Title: Swimming Above The Sharks

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing these two characters. Technically, they're Disney's property…which sucks. But because they're sub-canon characters, Disney wont notice if I steal them for a while…Mwa ha ha ha…! 

ANY OTHER CHARACTER IS MINE!

Summary: Mallot and Grapple discover themselves stranded, accidentally marooned, and with a hell of a lot of gold. That and Mallot intelligently points out they're not cursed any more.

Notes:  Well...Another chapter has cometh! I hope the previous chapters haven't been to short or to long. I also hope I'm not focusing on one character and not the other. I'm attempting to evenly spread them out. Really, I am!

Chapter Eleven: Captain Dubow, Son of Dubow and Dubow's Daughter

The ship came within another three hours and some odd minutes. The sun was set, the stars were shinning, and the fire was out, yet the ship kept coming. It had spotted the flame and smoke earlier, and was heading to the island, dedicated to its course.

Captain Edward Skye Cassiel Richard Alexander Dubow the fourth was an imposing man to captain said ship. 

He stood at six feet and four inches. He weighed over a hundred and thirty pounds. He was an experienced privateer, forty years old. He wore a deep green velvet jacket with large sleeves and golden brochette. Black breeches that were tucked into polished black boots clad his legs, a belt with two pistols and a cutlass went around his waist, and two cutlass belts went over his chest, shoulders and back, six pistols on each one. He had a long black moustache and no beard, yet a black felt tri-corn hat with four coloured feathers sticking out of it made up for lack of style.

He was the captain of the privateer vessel, _Son of Dubow_, a Dutch Flute ship rumoured to have double-crossed her nation, Britain, and collect the letter of Marquee from Britain, France, and Spain. The Dutch Flute gave a lurch backwards and a few crewmen were pitched back slightly, caught off-guard.  Captain Dubow had one admitted weakness, however. His twenty-three year old daughter, Zafira Mary Dubow. He had tried to send her to live with her aunt after her mother, Mary Dora Angelina Riggs (Riggs being her maiden name) passed away, yet the girl had been raised on the sea for to long. He had been a foolish man he often scorned himself, for letting his family accompany him on his ship like many other seamen from different nations did. Yet regardless of her upbringing around seamen and violence, Zafira was witty and polite.

As far as he knew.

Zafira had a sly look about her. Her thin lips often curved into a sneaky grin, and (as much as her father refused to believe) her legs were always parted and welcome to…company. 

Captain Dubow gazed out over the Caribbean waters, sweating profoundly in his velvet jacket. He detested the Caribbean heat, yet the routes of the ships he could capture were most prominent and flourishing in the region. He stroked his moustache with an elegant right index finger, before tapping his chin. The fire his spotter had seen over three hours before had gone out, yet he remembered exactly where it was.

  
  
The small island was growing bigger by the second. He wandered towards the helm, ordering the helmsman to take head of reefs and sandbars. Standing by the side of the man, Dubow twitched his nose, causing his moustache to twitch ridiculously with it. The island was close enough now, to anchor Son of Dubow and send a boat to the island to investigate the flame. Perhaps some unfortunate soul had been washed away in the storm a night ago, and would gladly join up with the crew…  
Indeed. That was what was to happen! Fate would not make up the minds of the stranded. They'd be so grateful, the sailor would throw himself into the crew in gratitude, and he'd serve Captain Dubow well…

  
  
"Sir! Two!" the man in the crow's nest called down and Dubow bristled. Fate had, once again, gone behind his back. Ah, well, two additions to the crew were fine. Yet, he wondered if, instead, they had been marooned and not washed overboard, as the first rowboat was dropped into the water with six men in it. He watched as they began to row towards shore, where the figures of two humans by a destroyed fire were sitting.

On shore, Grapple shook his brother awake from his half-asleep state, pointing to the Dutch Flute so near to the island. His brother took off his repaired hat, waved it half-heartedly in the air, gave a quiet, "Hurray!" and slammed his hat back on before trying to go back to sleep. Grapple rolled his eyes and walked towards the shore, looking cautiously at the silver mist that had re-settled over Mallot and was no longer visible. His brother had informed him that, at numerous points in their time at on the beach, a very sparse silvery mist had lifted from him yet returned. Jacoby had returned with coconuts filled with fresh water, which the living pirates drank greedily. Yet since then, they hadn't seen a stream of smoke from the bearded pirate.

"Ahoy!" a man from the rowboat shouted, and the boat's bow scrapped up against the sand. The men, six in total Grapple noted, leapt out and dragged it further onto shore so it wouldn't flow out with the tide. The lantern on the front of the boat swayed dangerously.

"Ahoy," Grapple answered back, tensing as the men came forth. He cradled his burnt arm against his chest protectively, taking an automatic step back as one of the men reached into his jacket.

"S'all right, we ain't gunna 'urt you!" the man said, drawing out a pistol and holding it in the air. A stream of gunpowder fell from the barrel reassuringly.   
  


  
As the men got closer, they got a good look at Grapple. They muttered quietly to each other, gesturing with a hand or nudging their head in his direction.

"Jesus, lookit 'is arm!"

"Look at _both_ his arms! Nuttin' but muscle!"

"Bad burn…"

"Not from the'h Navy, thar's f'er sure…"  
"Lookit the weapon 'e's got!"

"Nasty wound…"  
"Mebbe 'e's fr'em a merchant ship?"

"Tchah! Pirate, if'n y'ah ask me…"

"Looks loik 'ee culd knock a man out wit' a single blow!"

"Oy! I am _very_ sick of people whispering things as though I weren't there!" Mallot suddenly said loudly, emerging from his 'hiding' spot behind the boat wreckage, where he had been hidden from view. He limped in the sand, yet managed to carry himself with a certain pride. Plus, his confidence rose when the men noted the horrible looking mallet swinging from his right arm, the metal bars along it's edges glinting in the moonlight, and the rusted nail protruding from one end causing a few nervous glances.

  
"We're crew under Captain Dubow of the _Son of Dubow_! We're 'ear to, uh…"

"Rescue us…?" Grapple suggested with a smile, his crikey accent and slightly deep yet gruff voice only influencing the first impression of him.

"Yeah…Rescue…you…"

"I," the leader of the group, who had called the greeting to them stepped forward, "Am First Mate Chancey. We are to escort you gentlemen to the privateer vessel _Son of Dubow_ immediately, where you will serve under our captain. Misters…uh…?" Chancey paused in his introduction, giving the two pirates uncertain looks.

  
Mallot sneered nastily, and swung his mallet over his shoulder almost effortlessly, yet a wince crossed his face from the weakness of dehydration and the jolt of the weapon landing.   
"Mallot."

They looked to Grapple next, who 'absently' pulled his grapple out and inspected it. Looking up, he answered casually, "Grapple."

Chancey nodded and gestured behind him to the boat. "Please, accompany me."  
"I doubt we 'ave a choice," Mallot said lightly, limping past Chancey and hopping into the boat ahead of everybody else. Grapple chuckled, almost darkly, grinning as he consciously made the rescue party nervous.

A half hour of rowing (to which Mallot entertained himself by making the crew uneasy and nervous) later and the boat was pulled up. Unloading themselves, the crew stood to attention as Captain Dubow stalked forward in his entire moustache, velvet and straight posture glory.

The brothers were not impressed by his prim and proper look.   
Dubow smiled at them, showing his yellow and silver teeth, looked them over, and nodded once to congratulate himself on an excellent find. The two men looked strong, dangerous, and frankly their weapons alone looked intimidating. However, he noticed a single flaw about them.  
They looked half dead.  
The taller, yet slouching, stronger looking of the two with the goatee and (heaven be thanked!) slightly sloppy moustache had his left arm curled against him, and the flesh looked burnt, scabbed, and was trickling with yellow puss. The one wearing the sad tri-corn hat and scruffy, longer beard and with incredibly straight posture, was wheezing as he breathed, and looked pale as though he hadn't had a drink or slept in ages.

  
"I, gentlemen, am Captain Edward Skye Cassiel Richard Alexander Dubow the fourth. I am allocating you to enlist as contributors to my abundant assemblage."

The two men blinked at him, and the one with the mallet laying over his shoulders swung it down, the head landing with a loud thud on the deck.  
"Can you say that in English, mister Dubow?" he inquired, sticking his neck out slightly and asking innocently yet arrogantly. Dubow's nose twitched indignantly, as did his moustache.   
"You are now apart of my crew! Misters…uh…?"

"Mallot."

"Grapple."

"Not your weapons, your names!"

"Mallot."

"Grapple."  
"NAMES, gentlemen!"

The two pirates looked at each other before replying.

"Grapple?"

"Mallot?"

"Names, men!"

The pirates pointed at each other and themselves when they answered again.  
"Mallot."  
"Grapple."

"AUG!"

"Sir, those _are_ they're names…" Chancey said, grinning ever so slightly.

"Oh, well then. Mister Mallot, Mister Grapple, you will collect your duties from Mister Chancey after you visit the ship's doctor. His name is Mister Robin, and you will find him in the mess hall.

"Cook," Mallot grumbled. "He's the cook…"  
Grapple groaned in disappointment, looking bleakly at his burned arm.

~*~

Whew! I updated.


	12. Mutual Diagnose

Title: Swimming Above The Sharks

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing these two characters. Technically, they're Disney's property…which sucks. But because they're sub-canon characters, Disney wont notice if I steal them for a while…Mwa ha ha ha…! 

ANY OTHER CHARACTER IS MINE!

Summary: Mallot and Grapple discover themselves stranded, accidentally marooned, and with a hell of a lot of gold. That and Mallot intelligently points out they're not cursed any more.

Notes:  I like Captain Dubow. Actually, I adore his moustache more then anything else…He's based on my uncle, who acts indignant but has the best sense of humour I've ever encountered. Woot! 

Chapter Twelve: Mutual Diagnose 

The ship, they learned, wasn't like a normal ship. The decks were always dry, and everything was in order. Crewmembers scrubbed, it seemed, for only moments before the decks gleamed. It wasn't especially rowdy like other freebooter ships they had been on. There wasn't any songs being song to lively up the work, and no music was being played. It was to prim, to proper…to abnormal!

The two pirates slowly climbed down the steps, trying to take as much time as they could before visiting the doctor, who also was the cook. Cooks, when forced into medical positions, found amputations a lot more handy then trying to do anything to save the limb, and Grapple was in a rather poor predicament. The last step creaked loudly and they both winced visibly.

"Who's there?" a British accent rang out, thick yet urban. The two pirates pushed the door at the bottom of the staircase open and viewed into a dimly lighted room, where covered lanterns shielded candles illuminated the wooden mess hall. There were two long wooden tables stretching across the room, with long benches running alongside them. The walls were wooden and plan, and a few small windows in circular shapes were scattered amongst them. 

  
A small, balding man wearing a rather well-kept grey jacket with large silver sleeves, black breeches and buckled shoes, was cowering up against the furthest back wall, brandishing a frying pan at them. "Stay back!" he cried, his voice trembling. It became apparent he was indeed not a cook, and a licensed doctor.

  
"S'all right, we can't exactly kill y'eh right now," Mallot admitted, setting down his name-sake weapon to prove his point. He raised an eyebrow and waved his right arm slowly when the cowering man didn't relax at all.

"Y-you fiends! I demand you bring me back to Port Mackey! Immediately!" he spluttered.

"You're Doctor Robin, then?" Grapple asked, using his good arm to shift the grapple in his sash and belt a bit to the side, so a blunted griffe wasn't poking into his chest.  
"I am! Robin Collie! And I was kidnapped! I want to go home, now!" Robin demanded. The pirates exchanged a glance and burst out into laughter. Infuriated, the doctor strutted forward, red with embarrassment.

"How dare you?!" he roared. Grapple abruptly stopped laughing, yet Mallot carried on, his eyes starting to tear up. The doctor halted, pointing an accusing finger at the hysterical pirate, still holding the cooking pan. "I demand you stop, rapscallion!"

  
Robin didn't know exactly what had happened, but he found his arm pinned behind his back, and a very hot, cooked and damaged arm wrapped tightly around his neck, the larger of the two offenders behind him.  
"Watch yore tongue or I'll cut it out! Got that?" Grapple growled lowly, and the doctor nodded quickly in response. Suddenly, he was tossed forward and nearly thrown into the edge of the table. Behind him, Mallot's laughing slowed to a stop.

"Now then," Grapple said, his voice calmer then before, and he extended his burnt arm. "What d'you think of this?"

"Burned, third degree…" Robin said timidly, gently poking the skin around the open wound where the stained bone was slightly visible. Hastily backing up and expecting Trevor to lash out, he was surprised when the pirate barely winced. Slowly edging forward, he took hold of the limb and ushered Trevor to the back of the room, and sat the pirate down, Mallot following like some pathetic street mutt.

"This, gentlemen," Robin pointed to a green plant with odd tendrils sticking out in all directions, speckled with white and small spikes growing from the edges of the arms, "Is an Aloe plant. It will help sooth the burn and heal it."

"_How's_ that goin' to help Grapple?" Mallot inquired sceptically. Robin chuckled lightly, as though glad he was more knowledgeable about something then the other men.

The doctor took hold of one of the plant's arms and cracked it at the base. Drawing the separated part away, he broke it open and folded back the plant's folds. A thick, clear, sap started oozing over his hands, and he slapped the juicy side of the leaf down on Grapple's arm. The pirate gave a grumble of dislike yet let the doctor smear it over his arm.

Eleven minutes later, more then half of the Aloe plant was decimated, and its long, spiky leaves were scattered around the floor, either sucked dry of their sap or completely covered in their own sticky goo. Grapple's arm was covered in the slim, some parts still damp, others bone dry, but all in all, his skin was sticky and he was uncomfortable.  
"Heals, _and_ tastes alright!" Mallot proclaimed, nibbling on the end of one of the leaves as he sat comfortably on the end of a bench beside a table. The doctor grimaced and made a disgusted face as Grapple chuckled and sighed amusedly, "Aw, Hell, Mallot…" However, before the doctor could say anything, Jonathan leaned forward and giving him a sneer, related how he had survived off of eating rats for a week.

"Disgusting, pirates are!" Collie exclaimed, taking out some bandages and starting to wrap Grapple's arm around the gash.

"I doubt my father'd be happy to 'ear that comment, doctor," a female voice said from the doorway, slick and calm. Zafira flicked her braid over her should where it rested over her back, and strutted into the mess hall.  
"You must be the maroonies we picked up," she sneered superiorly at them, and lightly stepped over Mallot's abandoned mallet. She sat down on the edge of the table, and looked down at them all, before eyeing Mallot with an odd look of detest. Then, unexpectedly, she snatched the hat off of his head and started inspecting it.

"Oy!" Jonathan snapped, swiping at the hand that clutched the tri-corn, yet missed. Zafira waved a finger at him teasingly and giggled.

  
"We weren't marooned, we were caught in a storm," Grapple responded, gingerly poking at his arm and wincing as a small amount of puss that oozed slowly out of one of the curled and scabbed pieces of flesh damaged on his arm, the white bandage covering it becoming slightly yellow in that spot. Zafira make a retching sound and stuck her tongue out halfway as she looked at his arm. 

  
  
"What about you, why're you 'ere?" she kicked Mallot's side painfully with the toes of her left boot, leaning forward and cocking her head to glare at the pirate. Mallot glared right back, and tried to snatch back his hat, again missing. Pulling back as though she was taking a swipe at him, he winced at his back and grumbled.

"I'm-Hey!" Mallot began to answer; yet Robin Collie had slid over to him and began poking his arm. He rolled the pirate's sleeve up and pinched the skin, and withdrew, watching intently. Then, he felt the pirate's forehead (wincing visibly at the greasy strands of hair that clumped and got in the way) with the back of his hand, and shook his head. After a moment of considering Mallot, he clasped his hand and waited a minute.

  
"You're dehydrated. Severely, might I add? So is your brother."

"Brother?!" Zafira said, slightly intrigued yet sounded almost disgusted. The two men looked at the doctor, who smiled cheerfully.  
"You both look similar, and I doubted your names were completely coincidence."

"So what _are_ your names, eh, boys?" Zafira inquired casually, spreading her knees apart and swinging her legs back and forth.

"He's Ralph and I'm Fred," Mallot replied sarcastically. Zafira rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh.

"I'm Grapple, and my brother is Mallot. Yore name would be…?" Grapple answered and asked all at once. Zafira sneered savagely.

"Zafira Dubow!"  
"Mistress of the cap'n?" Mallot inquired innocently. Zafira shook her head.

"Daughter."

"Oh…" came the breathless reply from the now hatless freebooter. Then, "Can I have my hat back?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Damn it!"

"Language, mister Mallot."

"I hate you already."

"The feeling is mutual."  

~*~


	13. Storms

Title: Swimming Above The Sharks

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing these two characters. Technically, they're Disney's property…which sucks. But because they're sub-canon characters, Disney wont notice if I steal them for a while…Mwa ha ha ha…!

ANY OTHER CHARACTER IS MINE!

Summary: Mallot and Grapple discover themselves stranded, accidentally marooned, and with a hell of a lot of gold. That and Mallot intelligently points out they're not cursed any more.

Notes: …Mwa ha ha ha?

Chapter Thirteen: Storms

The encounter with Zafira had left Mallot in bad spirits, and he wasn't letting up in showing it. After Zafira gave him his hat back, he unfortunately lost his temper when the doctor gave him some water and knocked the poor man half way across the room with a strong punch to the stomach. After that, he had stormed back on deck, nearly shoved another sailor over board, and practically choked when he saw a sailor playing the accordion.

However, he had somehow separated himself from everybody else, and was now leaning over the stern railing, looking into the water. The ship had sailed for a while since the two brothers had left Rudagull (an encounter they would no doubt never forget), and the captain had set a course that the pirate didn't know where too. That fact made him uneasy, as did a lot of things aboard _Son of Ramone_. 

Looking down into the water, he started as he felt something prod the back of his hat, and pushed it back up onto his head as he turned around to glare at the culprit. Zafira was standing right behind him, smirking rather sadistically and snickered, letting her hands loll on her wrists as she rose them to stomach height.  
"Awfully jumpy, aren't you?"

"Nah. Can't jump high."

Zafira eyed him oddly for a moment with a raised brow before looking down at the mallet head resting at the side of his leg, the long handle leaning up against the gun wall.

"Well, not with ithat/i, I don't doubt."

Mallot rolled his eyes and turned his head, making a mocking impression of Zafira as he went, scrunching his face up and mouthing her words. However, she caught sight of it, and huffed indignantly.  
"No need to be rude! I was just saying…" Zafira complained, crossing her arms over her ribs, letting her large dark blue sleeves fall limply. In fact, she was wearing all blue, except for her trousers, which were black in colour. Her single belt that went around her waist was on top of a tightly tied light blue sash. The silk scarf around her neck was a deep royal blue, and her shirt was a dark blue cotton shirt, laced up at the neck.

"Well say it to someone else, will yah? I don't have time for silly little girls…"

Zafira's face contorted into an outraged expression and she growled impatiently. However, her anger soon faded when she noticed his left hand moving. The first sign had been the creaking of the glove that was cladding it, the fingers cut out. She looked over to his right hand, which was resting on the rail, and noticed the same style of glove, the fingers tapping impatiently at the wood of the ship.

"Fidgety, to," she remarked, and he smirked, ignoring her otherwise by starting to softly hum a tune meant for easing the minds of a working crew.

"I know that song! Fifteen men on a-"

"Dead man's chest. Yo-"

"Ho ho and a bottle of rum!" Zafira completed after Mallot's interruption.

"What's goin' on o'er here?" Grapple's deep voice sounded out behind them and Zafira jumped noticeably, backing into Mallot, who protested by edging away. Grapple grinned and crossed his arms, tensing his arms so the muscles became more apparent, just for the sake of making the girl nervous. However, she didn't appear frightened at all.

"Don't you have some whore to flirt with elsewhere?" Zafira spat out, scowling at the pirate. However, Grapple gave her a slightly surprised frown.  
"No," he answered, but his face turned into a grin. "I'm married."

"iWith/i, furthermore might I add, children," Mallot added, extending an index finger knowingly. Zafira's scowl relaxed and she seemed almost disappointed.  
"No chance of flirting with you then?"

"No chance at all."

"Damn," Zafira smiled jokingly, yet wasn't able to say anything as suddenly a lively song started up across the deck, played by an accordion, a single fiddle, and quite a few voices blasting out.

"After eight then, mates! That means no lighted flames under decks, and you can stay out here if you want to join in on the drinking!" Zafira informed them. Mallot suddenly perked up considerably, looking hastily from her to the crowd.

"Drinking…?" he asked tentatively, a hint of longing in his voice.

"Rum, ale, beer, whatever. We'll be in Tortuga in no less then two days if we don't encounter a storm, so we're using it up before we restock. S'all old, skunky and what not."  
"Fine with me!" Jonathan proclaimed, and pushed past Zafira roughly, walking towards the others.

"Aug. I don't like him," Zafira admitted to Grapple, who hung his head and chuckled quietly, so quietly that Zafira didn't even hear his laughter and presumed he was embarrassed of his sibling. Yet she continued, relating her detest for his brother.

"His manners are horrible, even for a pirate. And he's so protective of that worn out rag of a hat. He should consider a new weapon; a mallet is really inconvenient. Yes, and a new name…Is he married as well?"

"What?!" Grapple exclaimed, slightly confounded by her last question.

"Is he married? Like you?"

"Nah, nah, he's just an uncle and a terrible role model, at that. Yet the kiddies love him…"

Zafira raised an eyebrow before she started fiddling with her braid. She 'hmm'ed lightly and started off towards the din, leaving Grapple to stand and stare contently at the calm ocean without objections.

As she approached, she noticed Mallot already had a mug of rum in one of his hands, sitting on a crate and swinging his legs to the beat of the music being played. However, he was scowling as he swayed from side to side, and caught a glimpse of her as he took a sip of his beverage. He set the mug down on his left side and patted the small space on the crate to his right, starring right at her.

With a disgusted sound, she strutted forward and nearly pushed him off his seat as she sat down.

"Terrible, really, what your lot of musicians play. Back when I was on the Pearl…me an' Jacoby really played some good tunes!"

"The Pearl?"  
"Black Pearl."

"I believe I've heard of it…at some time or another. Did your captain maroon you?"

"Er…" Mallot considered his answer as he hesitated. He didn't want to put out a bad image for him and his brother, yet admitting their ship had been taken down in a battle was even worse. "We got hit by a storm and washed overboard. Grapple told you already, I believe…"

Zafira grinned at him, flashing her teeth, and leaned over his lap. She snatched up his drink, and taking a sip for herself, gave him a look to do anything about it. The challenge was not accepted, and he merely snagged another drink from a hand as somebody came by.

"Think you're a better fiddler then Borrickle?"

"Who?"

"Borrickle. Our fiddler!" She sneered, and called out to a lanky man with the violin on his shoulder, bowing relatively calmly as he kept up with the mad notes from the accordion. "Oy, Borrickle! Get over 'ere!" she yelled.

The man stopped his song with a screech from the strings, wincing slightly at the horrible sound. The short, chubby man beside him halted his bashing of his instrument and watched as Borrickle ran a hand through his light brown hair and slowly got up. 

He walked slowly over to Zafira as if expecting to be pushed over board, and was taken abruptly back when she grinned and patted him on the shoulder.

"Mally 'ere says 'e's a better fiddler then you," she indicated to Mallot with a lazy gesture, ignoring the pirate's growl at the pet name she had dubbed him.

"Naw, s'not possible! I'm the best thar is!" Borrickle boasted, and Zafira suddenly flicked his ear.  
"If you're the best, I'd 'ate to see the worst." A few chuckles went out over the quiet onlookers. "Your good, sure, but not the greatest." 

"If'n y'ah say so, marm," Borrickle looked down, his face flushed with red from embarrassment. He wasn't about to question the Captain's daughter.

"Well, Mally, you 'eard 'him playing before. You take 'is fiddle and let's 'ear what you got for us, eh?" Zafira grinned slyly, and Mallot merely shrugged. He accepted the violin pushed into his hand from Borrickle and took the bow. Gazing at it silently for a moment, he sighed.

"Rosin," he said, and was surprised to see a small brick pushed into his hand. Fumbling for a moment, he adopted an indignant look and spent the next seven minutes coating the bowstrings with the sticky sap. A few sailors grumbled impatiently and Zafira looked ready to kill him.

Grapple walked quietly over, and took a stance a few feet away from his brother, leaning against the barrel of a canon that was locked in place, pushed towards the gun wall. Tossing his ponytail back behind his shoulders where it had collected, he raised a brow and watched as Mallot continued to rosin up the bow. 

"'Urry up!" Zafira complained, and halted abruptly as Trevor began chuckling.

"Yore goin' to have to wait a while longer until he decides all's well and fair, Miss Ramone," Grapple informed her, curling his bandaged arm. The wrappings had turned a sick yellow colour with red streaking through around the gash, and seemed very soaked in the fluids.

"Alright, alright," Mallot muttered calmly. He arched his back and twisted his torso. Many people winced as a series of cracks went out as though somebody was continuously firing a gun over and over. The cracking stopped and he relaxed before putting the violin on his left shoulder and resting his chin on the spot where a chinrest was supposed to be. The bow made a small scratching sound as he placed it upon the A string, but the silence didn't last.

A very fast song suddenly emitted, scales, flats, sharps, cords, all combining to form a tune one could easily dance to. All present watched for a moment as the pirate skilfully played, before re-grouping into their huddle and dancing, drinking, laughing, or doing whatever they had done before.

Beside Mallot, Zafira was watching the bow trail rosin everywhere over the edge of the black fingerboard, some parts of the four strings completely white. She started laughing and avoided getting elbowed in the face, suspicious yet unconcerned he had tried to hurt her purposely.  
"Good job," she congratulated him, and he merely smiled, still playing the instrument. In front of him, Borrickle was nodding his head to the beat and grinning. He, to, congratulated Jonathan and went off to dance with some mates, leaving Mallot with the violin in hand. The song ended with an A sharp, an A and a longer held D note. The pirate set the instrument in a resting position and practically drained his mug of whatever alcohol was in it.

"Alright, so you proved you can fiddle," Zafira sneered, teasing him. She crossed her arms over her lower ribs and grinned viciously. "Can you play anything proper?"

"Nobody on yore boat seems to be able to," Grapple commented audibly from his position at the cannon a few feet away. He was glaring slightly as Zafira looked at him, yet she merely paid no attention to his recognition of her discrimination.

"Sure I can," Mallot commented lightly, as though it hadn't been a challenge but merely an inquiry. He started up another song, much slower and more relaxed. There were a lot of single strings and open notes, naturals and hardly any C sharps in the song. It ended sooner then the other, yet it had earned him a nod.

"Alright. Fine, you can play better 'n most I've 'eard," Zafira said, disgruntled with her defeat.

"And I bet you've heard many," Mallot joked, putting his arms up defensively as she tried to beat him.


End file.
